


Day Two: Cigarettes

by oathkeptroxas



Series: JayRoy Week 2016 [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Homelessness, Overdosing, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Underage Drug Use, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8468149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oathkeptroxas/pseuds/oathkeptroxas
Summary: This was his life, his existence laid bare.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this oneshot literal months ago but then finishd it up and shoehorned it into JayRoyWeek because I was behind and it fit the prompt.   
> Shoutout to Gracie who I told about this whilst discussing potential endings for my multi-chap and Gracie was just like "....But what if they just had a happy ending?"
> 
> This does not have a happy ending.

It was a cold night. The floorboards creaked, rotted with damp beneath his curled-up, quaking body. Howling wind battered against the sides of the building, it shook the foundation as it whistled through the interior. The draft had Jason curling his fingers tighter into the frayed edges of his lone fleece blanket, white-knuckled and teeth-chattering. His ribs were harsh under his skin, that had erupted in goose-flesh from the chill. His eyes were sunken and too old for his tender years, shadowed and guarded, set into a puppy-fat rounded face. Jason was knobbly-kneed and blue-lipped and alone. It wasn’t a new thing.

Gotham City citizens could be cruel, especially around Crime Alley. Jason never had to go looking for confirmation that humanity was inherently selfish. People walked past, their noses were raised high and their booted feet kicked and nudged him aside. He couldn’t count the days he’d been woken up with a police baton poked into his side as he’s roughly moved along. He’d long grown accustomed to wandering endlessly, to seek out shelter enough for him to spend the night. 

Begging was the worst, he’d sit on an old afghan he’d had for longer than he could remember, with an empty soup can set before him. Sometimes people would grunt out their disgust, other times they’d drop the coins they’d long forgotten were buried within their pockets, with their eyes brimming with pity. They didn’t care for him, of course. They gave him the money they didn’t need so they could feel good about themselves, one good deed for the day. Jason wished things could’ve been different.

Despite the relentless struggles that sought to weigh him down with every new day, there was one thing that always kept him sane, kept him grounded. It was a constant in his life that brought only comfort, a safe feeling that nothing else had ever provided. He’d simply glance down at his inner wrist, spy the semi-circle shape in its vibrant violet against his pale skin, and trust that things would get better. Not everyone had them, the birthmarks that varied in geometric shape and colour. But, if someone was lucky enough to be marked in such a way it meant that someone, somewhere out in the vastness of the world, had one to match. 

His Momma had told him it made him special. Jason felt that he was a part of a set, that he was more than a single entity. He could look down at that little design and wonder how often his ‘soulmate’ glanced down at their own. He wondered if they thought about him often, he really hoped they did. He wished to meet them one day, he hoped he didn’t disappoint. 

When you don’t have many things to call your own, when you’re too young to be running out of reasons to live, you cling to anything you can. The very idea that there was someone out there waiting for him was enough to keep Jason breathing, surviving, pushing forward. 

The day later was bitter cold but thankfully dry. The passersby were feeling generous enough, just past lunch time Jason had scraped together enough change to purchase a steaming cup of soup from a food truck. His frozen fingers curled around his meal, the warmth of it seeped into his skin, washed down his throat to heat his insides. His stomach growled appreciatively as it was finally filled. 

He was small for his age, but he’d never had the nourishment he needed to grow. He sat on the bench on the curb beside the truck, the slight warmth from the hot plates and running engine banished some of the chill. He huddled into his dirty coat and people-watched for a while. He did that often, and whenever he caught sight of the unmarked skin of a stranger’s wrist, he’d look down at his own, and feel better.

His Momma said that a soulmate was someone who changed your life forever, someone who was supposed to meet you in some way, and be vastly important. It could be a teacher that helped you get that scholarship that shaped your future, or a well-meaning stranger at the busstop who gives honest, life-changing advice. It could be a member of your own family who makes all the difference, or even the love of your life. There were no rules or regulations on a soulmate, the only criteria was that they had to be someone who would mean something. A soulmate was someone you were fated to meet in some way. Someone out there had a purple half circle on their wrist too, but Jason had no idea how he was supposed to help whoever they were. He hoped he wouldn’t disappoint. 

Though the knowledge that his soulmate existed was a source of comfort, there was a part of Jason that didn’t want to meet them. He didn’t have anything to offer. But, his Momma had always said that things would work out in the end. Jason couldn’t help but doubt the truth of that - they hadn’t worked out for her, after all. He didn’t want to meet someone just to let them down, the expectation weighed on his mind sometimes. He liked the idea of the person, though he was apprehensive of the reality. Surely, there were cases in which one member of a marked pair was unable to aid their partner the way they were meant too. There were bound to be people who never got the opportunity to meet their other half, the world is far too large for everyone to cross paths. 

It was both a blessing and a curse, to have a mark. Though it kept him grounded, and gave Jason something to hold onto, sometimes the thought of being without a piece of himself, the idea that maybe whoever was out there for him might be able to help him improve his life, it made him feel worse. There were so many things that he had to master, living the way that he did. He was in a near constant state of hypervigilance. He knew the streets like the back of his hand. He had to be aware of his surroundings at all times. Still, he doubted he had any skills that would enable him to be of much help to anybody but himself.

That night a local dive-bar was hosting a live band. Jason remembered a lot of the other street kids saying that cigarettes took the edge off of the hunger, but cigarettes were expensive. When people drank alcohol, they tended to smoke more too. People were willing to sell individual cancer sticks for a couple of coins if asked. Some people threw their cigarettes aside before they reached the butt, too eager to get back to whatever it was they were doing previously. Jason knew that if he waited around outside the bar, there would either be half smoked cigarettes in the gravel he could salvage, or someone would be nice enough to let him buy one.

The music was loud, and mostly just clashing noise. Jason wasn’t particularly familiar with music, but Great Frog didn't seem to be doing anything for him. He huddled in the alley, waiting for someone to come outside for a smoke. The band seemed to be popular with the patrons, as the crowd were cheering loud and no one had stepped out and missed the set.   
Jason took great care in securing everything he owned in his small, threadbare backpack, and tightened the straps around his bony shoulders. He watched as the people spilled from the doors as the music died down.

Just as he was prepared to step out into the light, he heard a loud clattering from behind him. The alley was open ended, the front led out to the road and the front of the bar, the back led to the private employee parking lot for the various businesses that lined the street. Sticking his head around the corner, he watched as a group of boys carried sound equipment and instruments to a waiting van. Great Frog, he presumed.

Within the next few minutes they’d finished packing away and one of them stayed behind, he retrieved a cigarette and sparked up. Jason took the opening. He figured he could wrangle a smoke out of this guy one-on-one, instead of drawing the eyes of everyone out front. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath before heading over.

The boy flickered a glance towards Jason as he approached, and from this close Jay could see the boy was only a few years his senior. He looked the kind of scruffy that was done on purpose, to obtain some element of ‘grunge’ and ‘rock n roll’. His hair was shaggy and a little greasy, his jeans were ripped at the knee, his jacket was oversized, stained and adorned with various patches and artless graffiti. The boy certainly wasn’t old enough to be in the bar, but this wasn’t the kind of place that cared enough to ask for ID.

Jason felt his luck had begun to turn, it was likely someone closer to his own age would be willing to talk to him for a while, and if they exchanged idle chit-chat, Jason was more likely to get a smoke as a result.

“Can I help you?” The boy called, his eyebrow was raised as he looked Jason over once more. His voice was deep, his tone merely curious.

Jason weighed up his options, tried to figure out how best to get on this guy’s good side. He knew he looked unkempt at best, but that was par for the course, and though he was young, maybe he could pass himself off as a patron, or perhaps the child of one.

“Nice set,” he settled on. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the bar. It was a lie, of course. The music had been borderline awful, but Jason wasn’t about to admit that. He was sure it was just an acquired taste.

“Thanks!” The guy beamed at him, and Jason almost felt bad for lying, _almost_. “ ‘m Roy,” the musician added, reached his free hand out to shake.

Jason hesitated for the barest second before grasping Roy’s hand in his own. He considered giving a false name - it wouldn’t have been the first time - before concluding that there’d be no point. “Jason,” he replied.

Jason quickly scanned the area to keep the conversation flowing, he couldn’t afford to let the encounter grow stale. He spied the Star City bumper sticker on the back of the band's van and smiled.

“Star City, huh?” He indicated to the vehicle. “You ever been to Gotham before?”

Roy took a long drag of his cigarette and Jason tried not to stare longingly. After a silent moment, Roy shrugged. “Nah, heard about it. My guardian knows some people. But, nah, I’m a first-timer.”

Jason snorted. “Doesn’t exactly make you wanna come back, does it?”

“I dunno, man. It’s got...character.” Roy grinned at him.

Jason couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that, and found himself relaxing despite himself. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

Something flickered in Roy’s eyes, but came and went far too quickly for Jason to dissect. Roy’s cocky smirk stretched his face as he said “First time for everything,” and winked.

He took a last drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly before flicking the butt to the gutter. Jason had to extend a certain amount of effort to stop himself tracking where it landed. He swallowed slowly, he was hungry, and he knew that a cigarette would help even the slightest bit. It was severely unlikely he’d get any actual food from the evening.

Jason decided not to dwell on that, and the conversation drifted back to the subject of music. Jason really couldn’t contribute a lot, but he was a master in the art of misdirection. If he could get Roy to do the majority of the talking, he could just chip in some off-hand comments. After spying Roy’s drumsticks in his back pocket, Jason asked him about different kits and iconic musicians he admired.

Finally, the blessed moment came when Roy retrieved his pack of cigarettes. He drew one out and placed it between his lips. Jason made his move before the pack disappeared back into Roy’s pocket.

“Hey, you think I could have one of those?” He considered saying _please_ , was on the tip of his tongue to do so, but it struck him as childish and pleading, so he refrained.

Roy wordlessly drew out a second cigarette, and Jason felt compelled to add “I’ll buy it off you.”

Roy snorted and held the cigarette out and smiled when Jason took it. “ _Dude_ ,” he said in a tone that implied he was offended by the very idea he’d charge for it. Jason laughed.

Roy sparked up before passing the lighter to the younger boy with a smile.

“Thanks,” Jason mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth. Roy just shrugged.

Jason found he enjoyed Roy’s company, it was unusual to say the least. Living the way he did, Jason was accustomed to hypervigilance, yet he was content to lean back against the wall and listen to the smooth sound of Roy’s voice.

Jason had become so used to distrusting people at every turn, it was simply refreshing to find this small reprieve. He didn't understand why Roy was different, but he didn’t care enough to think too much on it. 

“Won’t your friends be wondering where you are?” Jason thought suddenly, honestly surprised that someone hadn’t come looking for Roy by now.

“Not likely. They’re likely basking in the attention of drunken groupies right about now.” Roy chuckled, clearly not bothered by his bandmates absence.

“Not really your thing, huh?” 

“Used to be. I dunno, got old, I guess.” Roy murmured. It seemed perfectly casual, but Jason got the impression there was something more there.

The chill was settling in, and the icy breeze was cutting. Jason couldn’t help but shiver under its onslaught. Without a word Roy shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Jason.

“No way, I can’t take that.” Jason refuted immediately, though the garment looked warm and inviting, he had a little pride left.

“Please,” Roy scoffed, “You need it more than me, you can keep it. Not like I don’t have another one. You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

Maybe it was the way that Roy shrugged it off, made it seem like it was nothing, but Jason felt comfortable enough to take it. The jacket was warm and _huge_ , hanging off Jason’s frame, where it had been baggy on Roy. It was thick and would withstand wear and tear. Jason knew this jacket would prove invaluable to him, and Roy didn’t have a fucking clue.

Jason noted the long sleeved shirt Roy was wearing, and felt less guilty for taking his coat. He smiled at the older boy gratefully. Roy chuckled at the way the jacket drowned Jason’s small frame.

“You’ll grow into it,” He teased.

Jason laughed and jokingly elbowed Roy in the side, the other boy just laughed right back. And though Jason knew he would never see Roy again after the night ended, he felt he’d made a friend, that he would remember Roy’s kindness and generosity for the rest of his life.

Roy sighed suddenly. “I really should head back in. But, it was great talking with you, Jason.”

Jason nodded jerkily, “You too. Thanks for the..” he pulled at the hem of the jacket.

“Don’t mention it,” Roy smiled. “You get yourself somewhere dry to lay low for the night. Take care, okay?”

Jason was taken aback for a moment. Roy was more perceptive than he’d thought, still he didn’t mind so much in the face of Roy’s acceptance. 

“You too,” he mumbled before Roy gave him one final smile and went back inside.

Finding a place to stay wasn’t difficult. The alley beside the bar had a large window on the opposite side, once boarded up but now busted through. It was an abandoned apartment block, many of the rooms were damaged and unsafe. But it was dry and quiet, Jason wouldn’t have to worry about being moved along, he could get a full night's sleep. 

He found a spacious walk-in wardrobe in a first floor apartment, and decided it was as good a place as any to settle. He emptied his belongings onto the worn carpet, he balled up a shirt for a pillow and tucked his ratty afghan tight around himself. He closed the door, for extra protection, to stay hidden should anyone else come in. The streetlights and neon signs outside provided the barest hint of light through the wooden slats in the closet door. The boisterous drunken laughter and tinkling glass of the neighbouring bar was an unwelcome backing track.

Jason longingly traced the purple crescent that marred his inner wrist, it was a comforting action that he indulged in frequently. He caressed the contours of his mark as if saying goodnight to the person out there somewhere who had one the same. There was someone out there who knew that Jason existed, in some abstract way at least. It made him feel a little better.

With a sigh he rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position for sleep. A tell-tale crinkling sound had him fumbling in the pocket of Roy’s jacket - his jacket now. He pulled out a crushed Hershey's bar and under a dollars worth of change. Jason didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Roy had likely entirely forgotten that there was anything in the pockets at all. His stomach grumbled and the hunger cramps made him curl further into himself, but he couldn’t eat the chocolate now. He’d had soup in the day already, and there was no guarantee that the next day would be able to feed him. He needed to save it.

He clutched the jacket closer, it was thick and warm and made all the difference. There was no way for Roy to have known the good he’d done. That somehow made it more important. Jason finally fell into a fitful sleep.

A few hours later, in the early hours of the morning when darkness was still prevalent, Jason was awoken. He sat up immediately, quickly seeking out anything that could be the cause of his disrupted sleep. There was an echoing, muffled sound of people yelling, not in anger, but something almost desperate. He lightly pushed the closet door open, and the shouting became just clear enough to make out.

“ _Roy!_ ” a voice rang out, and then another.

Multiple voices, unrecognizable to Jason, were calling for Roy. And Jason knew he had to do something, if something was wrong with Roy then he wanted to help, he owed him that much.

Jason was suddenly filled with a sense of urgency, his chest was pinched tight and his breathing was coming shallow. There was a slight burning, tingling sensation surrounding the skin of his mark and he didn’t know what any of it meant but he just knew he had to _do something_.

He shoved his belongings back in his bag with haste and slung it across his shoulder before leaving his hiding place. He slowly made his way through the damaged property, noting how the yelling sounded a lot farther away now. On his way back to the smashed window, the only entry point he was aware of, he caught sight of an apartment door that was ajar, when it hadn’t been before.

Though on any other night Jason would have steered clear of any unknown quantity, wouldn’t put himself in the line of fire in such a way. He was compelled to check, to find out who had been there and why. If there was the tiniest, little off-chance that it was Roy, Jason couldn’t just walk away.

He wished he had.

Jason convulsed and stumbled back against the wall. The stench of vomit hit his nose before he’d even registered he’d thrown up, spied the splash of it on his shoes. His eyes were wide and watery, his head shaking in denial.

 _No_ played on a constant loop in his head as he stared, couldn't look away though he tried. It was like the sequel to his greatest failure, an upgraded version of the worst day of his life. Roy was there, blue-lipped from the November cold, and still. His sleeve was pushed up, the crook of his elbow bared and the needle still inside. His pale skin was dotted with marks of previous abuse. _So much like his Momma._ Jason felt a wet sob building in his throat, choking him, he couldn’t breathe.

The final blow came when his eyes were drawn to the skin of Roy’s wrist, just below where the needle came to rest. A violet half-circle stared back at him, and Jason screamed.

This was his life, his existence laid bare.

You will have someone, and they will be taken away, _just like this._


End file.
